


subtle mark traits

by whitenoisce



Series: not so subtle, very asian [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Mark Lee (NCT), Blind Date, Haechan Likes To Bake, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is Whipped, Minor Rencas, Very Generously Peppered with Subtle Asian References, but we don't delve too much into that, mark is lowkey rich lmao, some talk of severe parental expectations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitenoisce/pseuds/whitenoisce
Summary: When Mark was first roped into the group a year ago, it was nothing more than just a source of funny memes targeted to soothe the collective Asian suffering.That is, until this absolute doll of a creature by the name of Haechan Lee came swinging into the scene with his first “dorm friendly brown sugar boba ice cream recipe~!” garnering a whopping 5k likes in under an hour and catapulting him into subtle asian fame.orthe subtle asian traits!au in which mark is whipped, donghyuck lives a double life, and yuta somehow manages to set them up on a date
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: not so subtle, very asian [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902130
Comments: 103
Kudos: 831





	subtle mark traits

**Author's Note:**

> recipe credits:  
> [dark chocolate mochi brownies](https://foodisafourletterword.com/recipe/dark-chocolate-mochi-brownies-recipe/)  
> [steamed rice cake](https://dailycookingquest.com/bai-tang-gao-steamed-rice-cake.html/)

You see, the problem with owning a lounge chair in a college dorm room is that when you fall out of your seat for one reason or another, the whole chunk of it topples over, leaving you to die a slow painful death. 

The other thing about owning fancy furniture is that not many people on a college budget can afford that kind of thing, which means people are always coming in and out of your room unannounced to monopolize them. This is exactly how Lucas finds Mark heaving underneath a pile of Herman Miller leatherette on a Thursday afternoon. 

Mark half expects him to just stand there and take photos (—God knows he’d snap a few if any of his friends were in the same situation), so he’s pleasantly surprised when Lucas strides his giraffe legs over and actually has the decency to unearth him out of the metal rubble before doubling over in laughter. 

“Mark, my man. What gives?” Lucas says, making a show of wiping his tears while he catches his breath on Mark’s bed. 

“Dude, it’s nothing,” says Mark, mumbling as he picks up his phone from where it landed on the floor, checking it for cracks. “You didn’t see anything.” 

“You literally said the same thing last week when your cake boy posted a new recipe on SAT and you tripped over the curb.” 

Mark opens his mouth to say something smart but nothing comes out, and in the beat that passes realization seizes Lucas in the form of bug eyes and a shit eating grin. “ _No way_.” 

Before Mark could even blink, Lucas is already snatching his phone from right under his nose, scrolling through the unorganized mess of Mark’s notifications. 

Lucas is loud in triumph when he finds what he’s looking for, and Mark doesn’t have it in him to fight the gangly tree on his bed because 1) the awful scratch on his knee is scabbing uncomfortably under his sweatpants and 2) he doesn’t have to look at his phone screen to know that it says _Haechan Lee posted on subtle asian traits,_ effectively proving all of Lucas’s points. 

When Mark was first roped into the group a year ago, it was nothing more than just a source of funny memes targeted to soothe the collective Asian suffering. It was admittedly a lot of fun tagging people in niche shit you think only ever happened in your household (like the unreal amount of ketchup packets he has tucked away in his fridge), but the posts were quick to dwindle down into repetitive Kumon and boba related memes like flat beer at a frat party, and Mark was not having it. 

That is, until this absolute doll of a creature by the name of Haechan Lee came swinging into the scene with his first “dorm friendly brown sugar boba ice cream recipe~!” garnering a whopping 5k likes in under an hour and catapulting him into subtle asian fame.

Mark didn’t know what the fuss was about because he figured he could just go and get himself those Tiger Sugar things in the frozen section of the supermarket anytime he wants, but an accidental click at his profile photo has him running off to buy a whole set of silicone bakeware without a second thought. 

Haechan Lee’s face was carved from whatever sparkles and eyeliner ABG dreams were made of, and safe to say, Mark was whipped like the cream cheese frosting on top of the most decadent carrot cake he has ever tried in his life (hands down, top 5 best Haechan recipes so far). 

In between his weekly dessert recipes and Mark turning on notifications for all his future posts (—to which Lucas said, “I didn’t even know you could do that for strangers. Isn’t that like, creepy?”), Haechan got himself a sort of cult following, eventually warranting an official _subtle baking traits_ spin-off where he encourages everyone to post their own stuff. 

It isn’t a surprise how big the subgroup has gotten in such a short amount of time considering how endearing Haechan is with his kaomojis on the regular. But as nice as he seemed to be in the comments section, Mark never got the guts to do anything more than just sending him a heart react and calling it a day. 

“Why don't you just message him already?” asks Lucas, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. Mark snatches his phone back with a huff, leaving Lucas to prop his feet up the pillows. In turn, Lucas dangles his head upside down to watch Mark waddle his way to the kitchenette. “I'm sure he'll be flattered to know you have an entire instagram account dedicated to his stuff.”

“Which is on private. _For a reason_ ,” Mark says pointedly, before opening the cupboard to rummage through his baking supplies. “I don’t think he’ll appreciate some random dude hitting him up on SAT when he’s minding his own business.”

“Pft, I’m not asking you to propose to him,” Lucas scoffs before flipping himself over, growing dizzy from all the blood rushing to his head. “Just say hi. Compliment his recipes. Nerd out about piping tips or something.”

Mark ignores Lucas and his obvious jab at the 55-piece piping set he just ordered last week to do some mental math. This week’s dessert is dark chocolate mochi brownies, and he notes with a frown that he neither has mochi nor enough dark chocolate for what the recipe requires.

“This little crush of yours was cute and all. And it’s been feeding me, so thanks for that. But I actually think you should give it a shot.”

“You don’t even know if he’s from around here,” Mark mumbles as he closes the cupboard, narrowing his eyes at Lucas before waddling back to the open floor plan. This conversation was a trap and he knows it, but it’s too late and his mind is already reeling with possible first date ideas. “He could be halfway across the world for all we know.” 

“And?” Lucas raises an eyebrow at him. “You’ve literally flown out for far less. Remember in sophomore year when you bombed that midterm and flew yourself to Osaka? You ate your weight in wagyu and cried over your future at a bar in Shinsekai. Don’t even deny it, Yuta told me everything. He had to haul your sorry ass back to the bnb.”

Mark didn’t know that Lucas even knew Yuta, much less the fact that they’ve met up to talk about his questionable life decisions behind his back, but he saves those thoughts for another day because this conversation is getting a little too real and if Lucas doesn’t stop talking he might as well pull up Haechan’s profile right now to message him a time and place. 

(Incidentally, Lucas does not stop talking and flying Haechan for a Dotonbori date did not sound too shabby.)

“I mean, Mark.” Lucas sighs, uncharacteristically invested in Mark’s love life. Or lack thereof. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Uh, he could find my attempts hilarious and decide to post screenshots on SAT without censoring my name? Or he could get seriously creeped out and decide to call the cops on me? Or he could blacklist me from all the baki—”

“Okay okay I get it, jeez,” Lucas relents with a roll of his eyes, slipping his body down from the bed and landing on the carpet with a soft thud. Mark eyes him warily in case he needs to continue, but Lucas seems to be content lying on the floor and petting the plush fluffy fibers of his rug for the meantime.

Mark doesn’t mean to be a drama queen, but it’s been a while since he last put himself out there for more than just an unrefined college hookup. 

His last and only relationship had been a desperate attempt to grow up and a last ditch effort to get something out of high school. Looking back, he didn’t even like the guy too much. He always smelled too strongly of Axe and had serious biphobic tendencies, yet at the end of the day Mark was still the one who ended up being ghosted halfway through the summer before university. 

It wasn’t a huge blow. In fact he was probably over it before it even started, but it’s nasty enough an experience to stop him from diving back into the dating game when better people came around. 

Mark was perfectly fine making his rounds in college with no strings attached, that is until he started skipping out on dick appointments to bake on Thursday nights. And it wasn’t even to get _baked_ baked, it was _to bake_ , which are two completely different things. 

It scared him a little bit, but that brand of terror was quickly overpowered by a genuine appreciation for whipping up cute desserts. It came as a surprise even to him, but at this point he’s just glad he has something to keep his mind from addressing why his heart gets so damn soggy everytime Haechan so much as posts a recipe. 

Which brings him back to his current predicament. He needs to find a way to kick Lucas out of the room so he can head out and do some grocery shopping. If he leaves now he can probably catch Nakamoto’s before it closes. 

“Anyway, why are you even here? Don’t you have class at six?” Mark asks, checking his phone for the time as he thumbs at the corner scratches. 

“Oh right, fuck!” Lucas springs up from the carpeted floor, eyes a little wild as he scrambles to locate his phone. When he finds out he has exactly 8 minutes to run to the Math building, he dashes out of the door without so much as a goodbye but a loud resounding scream. 

* * *

Nakamoto’s is a little family run food store tucked in a quiet but trendy neighborhood fifteen minutes off of University Avenue. They stock essential household goods like any other grocery, but it’s the wide selection of hard to get Asian ingredients that people really go through the confusing maze of little backroads for. 

Mark spent a lot of his formative years accompanying his mom to the shop, eyes bugging out at the seemingly endless rows of cute packaging and bright candy that lined the shelves. Of course, the real reason they were there was to restock their ever dwindling container of red pepper flakes, but under the seduction of the bright fluorescence it was easy to pretend that the trip was actually for candy. 

It was along these aisles that Mark met Yuta, the eccentric son of Mrs. Nakamoto. He’d never actually seen the guy since he was four years older than Mark and was always in school when they’d come to visit, but no amount of second-hand introductions could have ever prepared Mark for the whirlwind that came barging into his life that fateful day.

Mark was just minding his own business, longingly sweeping his fingers across the bright plastic packaging of the candy aisle when something wet grazed his ear, causing him to yelp and topple over a whole bunch of Choco Babies on the floor. He was pretty sure it was sexual harassment to lick someone’s ear in the middle of a supermarket, but Yuta just laughed at him and shoved three packs of Choco Baby to his chest for his troubles. 

It was surreal, but he would eventually come to find out that it was just a harmless Yuta Thing™ and the free chocolate was just his way of saying that we’re friends now, and you’re never getting rid of me. 

True enough, nearly ten years later Mark still finds himself driving out to the arterials of the neighborhood for an excuse to pay the Nakamotos a visit. Although nowadays Mark finds himself gravitating towards the baking aisle more than anything, he still picks up a couple boxes of Pocky every now and then for the little kid in him who was deprived for fear of cavities. 

Mark chuckles at the memory, easing down on the breaks as he rolls into the narrow street. He parks right in front of the shop where a couple of old ladies are milling around a new delivery of daikon radish, and he gives them a polite smile before slipping into the shop.

As far as he knows, he only needs to pick up two things, but he pulls up the post anyways for the measurements and to see if he missed anything else. 

**Haechan Lee** ▸ subtle asian traits

2 hrs ago

☆*:.｡.hello SAT!.｡.:*☆

How are you guys doing~! I hope you enjoyed last week’s egg tarts, because I’m sure I did. ( o˘◡˘o) ┌iii┐ It smelled so good that I ate one straight from the oven and burned my tongue. (＞﹏＜) So make sure you wait for it to cool okay? It also tastes really good cold!! The tarts were my grandma’s recipe, (^_<)〜☆ so it was pretty much foolproof. But today I wanted to share something new! Storytime! I was craving brownies the other day and thought to make a good ‘ol batch, but alas! (｡•́︿•̀｡) I was all out of baking flour! All I had was this pack of sweet rice flour hiding ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ behind my choco chips, and I thought it didn’t hurt to try. 

What I got out of it was the _yummiest_ , **chewiest** , 🅵🆄🅳🅶🅸🅴🆂🆃 little brownies I’ve ever had in my life! ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ Not sure if I ever want to go back to traditional brownies anymore. ㅎㅎㅎ

Anyway that was a lot haha I’ll go straight to the recipe now! 

**Dark Chocolate Mochi Brownies**  
  
Ingredients:  
🗷 1 cup sweet rice flour  
🗷 ¾ cup Ghirardelli 60% Cocoa Bittersweet Chocolate Chips  
\---or any other chocolate really but like Ghirardelli is _it_ fam  
🗷 ¾ cup cocoa powder (unsweetened)  
🗷 ¼ tsp espresso powder of choice!  
🗷 1 stick salted butter (4 oz.)  
🗷 3 large eggs  
🗷 1 ⅔ cups whole milk  
🗷 1¼ cup granulated sugar  
🗷 ¾ tsp baking soda

...See more

Mark does his shopping in relative peace, humming to the tune of some Japanese rock song while going through the familiar aisles. He takes Haechan’s recommendation and picks up a bag of Ghirardelli chocolate chips, somewhat surprised to see it stocked there. He also takes three whole bars of Hokkaido butter for posterity, and a jug of whole milk for the heck of it. 

When he gets to the flour aisle, he takes his time going through the shelves to see which one he needed. But he’s not sure if he’s blind or just out of it because he could not for the life of him find where the sweet rice flour was. 

Mark ends up crouching down by the lower shelves, darting his eyes between nearly identical bags of rice flour and glutinous rice flour in his hands. None of them looked particularly sweet and a part of him almost considers secretly busting the bags open to give it a taste, but he knows he’s too chicken for that. 

Instead he sighs, planning to return the bags of questionably white powder when he feels a figure looming over him from the back. 

“You gonna get that?” the man asks, his voice a little muffled from the face mask. Mark just stares at him blankly, a little taken aback by the unprompted social interaction. 

“Uh, not really,” Mark says, standing up from the floor. The man was dressed in a bucket hat and the biggest sweater Mark has seen since living in Queens, but at least he seems to know what he’s doing with his baking supplies. “Here, you can have them.” 

“Just this one, thanks.” The man takes one of the packs from Mark’s hands, he doesn’t even know which one is which at this point, and puts it in his own cart. He takes the other one and dumps it next to the boxes of almond meal at eye-level, sending Mark a private wink as if he knew what kind of supermarket degenerate he was and that he was proud of it. 

A scoff barely escapes Mark, but at the sight of the man’s retreating figure a question comes to mind. 

“Wait do you, uh, know where to get sweet rice flour by any chance?” Mark asks, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. When the man doesn’t answer, he only flushes deeper. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to look for it everywhere and they don’t seem to stock it here.” 

Okay, he’s rambling. This guy doesn’t care about his shopping list. He’s going to stop talking now or else he might embarrass himself even further. He turns around and hopes to beat the guy to the counter, but a hand on his shoulder stops him from escaping the scene.

“Sweet rice flour. Glutinous rice flour. It’s the same banana,” the man says, and by the teasing lilt in his voice Mark wonders if he should believe this guy at all. “Sometimes it goes by Mochiko too, but ironically that’s the brand they don’t stock here.” 

It takes a hot second for Mark to register that the guy is reaching out to retrieve the bag he ditched on the wrong shelf, and is placing it on his cart. Despite his face being obstructed by the mask, Mark knows by the crinkling of his eyes that the man is smiling at him. Whether in congeniality or at his stupidity he has no idea, but before he could think further on it the guy is walking away to check out.

He realized he never even got to thank the man for his help, but when Mark finally makes it to the counter the guy is already out the door with the tinkling of the windchimes. 

Yuta greets him at the cashier with a bright smile and an even brighter dye job. Mark gives him a small wave in response. 

“So, Ghirardelli huh? Sounds fancy. Whatcha baking this time, angel?” Yuta asks as he punches in Mark’s shopping. His hair has been blonde since the first time Mark met him as a teenager, but it still surprises him every single time how many different kinds of yellows existed in the spectrum. 

“Mochi brownies?” Mark offers with a shaky smile, not really sure if it would make sense or if he was toeing the edge of cultural appropriation. People have started to become more adventurous with their pastries since the rise of third wave coffee shops, but most people still liked to keep to traditional favorites. “I don’t know I just found it on the internet.” 

“Huh,” Yuta huffs, head tilting sideways as he tries to recall the conversation. “It’s funny that you say that. Cause the guy before you was talking about mochiko just now, bugging me to stock it.” 

“Ah yeah,” Mark chuckles quietly. “That’s prolly my fault, he was helping me with ingredients back there. I actually forgot to thank him.” 

“I’m sure you’ll run into him on campus,” Yuta smiles, ringing up his total. Mark hands him his card and the older starts poking and prodding at the screen with practiced ease. “You can thank him then.” 

It doesn’t surprise Mark that Yuta’s all buddies with his customers, knowing where they study and probably what their majors are. He’s always been a people person, and Mark thinks he’d have definitely loved going to college. 

“Maybe,” Mark says, absentmindedly taking his eco-bag of spoils by the hand. “Anyway thanks for this. I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“You better! And for dinner this time! Mom misses you!” Yuta shouts at his retreating back. Mark flashes him a smile before he steps out into the cool evening. 

* * *

The brownies turn out fantastic, both in presentation and in taste. Popping one in his mouth was like jumping on clouds of chocolate but drowning in a quicksand of fudge at the same time.

Mark ends up sprinkling a thin veil of confectioner’s sugar on top to make it even prettier. He takes a nice shot and sends it to Lucas. 

**Mark** : dude brownie alert  
[IMG_202007221]  
**Lucas** : 🤤🤤🤤

Mark chuckles, planning to settle the phone back into his pocket when suddenly he is reminded of the conversation they had earlier that day. He takes a good look at the brownies cooling on the rack, and decides that for once they’re pretty enough to be shown to the world. 

In a rare surge of courage, he pulls up the SAT post.

**Mark Lee**  
gave the recipe a shot and it turned out great haha  
added some powdered sugar too :oo  
[IMG_202007221]

Just now Like Reply

His hands are clammy when he presses enter, and he flips his phone down on the counter a little too harshly as he exhales a loud breath. 

It wasn’t a proposal, but it was better than nothing. Baby steps.

* * *

“Are you stupid or what?” Renjun spits out, voice dripping with a malice he didn't know he was capable of in the middle of the day. Lucas has a lazy arm around his shoulders, trying not to choke on pearls as he watches his angry little boyfriend roast Mark in the middle of their favorite bubble tea shop. 

The three of them are huddled around their usual spot by the window, and like any other Friday, a tupperware of Mark’s weekly creation sits in between them like a campfire. 

It’s almost tradition at this point. Every week, Renjun fetches Mark and Lucas after their 2PM physics lecture and drags them all across campus for some much needed sugar boost. 

Usually, Mark would think Renjun is godsend for helping them battle the afternoon lethargy, but right now he just thinks he’s being awfully mean for someone who’s been nibbling on his mochi brownies for the past hour. 

Mark sips at his purple drink for some semblance of comfort, but winces. He forgot to adjust the sugar level again. 

“Let me get this straight,” Renjun says, eyes bugging out in what seems to be genuine disbelief. He takes a sip of his jasmine tea (0% sugar, less ice) before continuing. “You mean to tell me that this boy that you’ve been simping on for, how long now? Three months?—”

“Three _and a half,_ ” Lucas interjects. Mark just rolls his eyes.

“Fine, three and a half. Finally responds to you, with a double comment no less, and your first instinct is to give him a haha react? On _both_ of them? Are you out of your mind?”

“Okay, it sounds really bad if you put it like that...” Mark squawks, the tips of his ears blooming in embarrassment. He taps his phone screen back to life and stares at the cause of his anguish, hoping it would magically morph into something else. 

**Mark Lee**  
gave the recipe a shot and it turned out great haha  
added some powdered sugar too :oo  
[IMG_202007221]

18 **Wow** Reply

> **Haechan Lee**  
>  akfjslkdfjasljd that’s so pretty!! the dusting reminds me of crinkles lmao
> 
> 9h **Haha** Reply

> **Haechan Lee**  
>  i have a recipe for that too btw  
>  DM me if you need any help(◕‿◕✿)
> 
> 9h **Haha** Reply

When Mark woke up that morning to a notification that says _Haechan Lee replied to your comment in subtle asian traits_ , he genuinely thought he had been dreaming. 

The whole thing just seemed too good to be true, so Mark thought it was just another one of those nice floaty dream scenarios that always start out with him bravely messaging Haechan and always ends with the two of them in a sticky heap on the bed. Lucid dreams did not come often in Markville, so he took the chance and let his fingers help him play it cool like he’s always done in his dreams. 

It’s much later when he wakes up again and is having breakfast at 11AM does he realize his mistake. He drops his chopsticks on the counter with a loud metallic clang as he scrambles for his phone. When his clammy fingers finally get past the fingerprint ID after three tries, two identical laughing faces stare back at him in mockery from where he left off a couple of hours ago. 

And this is how he ends up here, face buried in his hands as the weekend officially rolls in. He can’t even console himself with some brownies since they remind him so much of Hae— oh God he can’t even say it. 

“Oh c’mon man. It’s not so bad,” Lucas says, grabbing another brownie. He pops it in his mouth in one go and speaks through the chocolate chips. “You can still message him if you want.” 

“With what face?” Mark quips, head lifting off of his hands to stare incredulously at Lucas. But he really shouldn’t have said that, because Renjun looks like he’s about to obliterate Mark’s very existence. 

“A haha emoji, if you’re taking suggestions.” 

Lucas laughs so hard that he snorts and the servers by the counter look at them with concern. Renjun tries to shut him up to no avail, and Mark starts to think that his punishment for stupidity comes in the form of Lucas Wong. 

“But really,” Renjun says a while later, after Lucas has calmed down. “Idiocy aside, he _did_ say to DM him for ‘any help’, whatever the fuck that means.”

“Yeah man, sounds like an open invitation to me,” Lucas says. 

“Maybe that’s how kids flirt these days, who knows? Surely not you. So you better find out, Mark Lee,” Renjun says with a huff. He stands up, taking his empty cup with him as he slings his backpack over one shoulder. 

“I have a psych thing in a bit, so I’m going ahead,” Renjun says, leaving a quick peck on Lucas’s cheek. “You boys behave, okay?” 

“Yes, mommy,” Lucas responds with a dopey smile. Mark stares horrified at his friend whose eyes are trained on Renjun’s ass as he struts away. 

“Oh god, do I want to know?” Mark asks, praying his eyes were deceiving him. Lucas just laughs at him and suggests pizza for dinner. Mark pretends he got an answer.

* * *

By the time next Thursday rolled around, Mark still hasn't found the guts to message Haechan for baking tips nor for a trip to Japan. Which is a pity, because all Mark’s been doing in class is craving takoyaki and zoning out to the thoughts of horsing around with him in Don Quijote for hours on end. He’d buy him anything he wanted, and they wouldn’t even need to line up for tax refunds. It would be cute. 

Lucas thought so too, but Renjun just threatened to bite his kneecaps off if he didn’t do anything about it. Just the thought of it gives Mark the heebie-jeebies. He knows for a fact that Renjun has the balls to stalk over to his room and make good on his threats if he so wanted to. In fact, if the younger wasn’t so swamped with midterm requirements on the other side of campus, Mark’s pretty sure he’d be crippled by now. 

Given that, Mark shoots a silent thanks to the gods for strategically placing the engineering buildings as far as possible from the psychology department. He’d like for both of his kneecaps to be intact if only for the reason that he needed them to drive to Nakamoto’s for new ingredients. 

This week’s recipe came after a three page essay and right in the middle of Mark’s second problem set. Crippling academic pressure had him cooped up in the library since noon, and he’s sure his brain would have fried itself to ashes if the telltale notification bell hadn’t come to save him. 

**Haechan Lee** ▸ subtle asian traits

Just now

☆*:.｡.hello SAT!.｡.:*☆

It’s been getting pretty chilly, huh? *❆ﾟ*｡⋆   
(つ≧▽≦)つ Hope you guys are keeping warm!!

Something funny happened to me last week, but I think it’s relevant so I’ll share it with you guys. ( ˙꒳˙ ) I was just doing my shopping when a cutie asked if I knew where to find sweet rice flour. He said he’d only seen rice flour and glutinous rice flour in the shop and right away I’m like (⊙_⊙) “O no I have made a terrible mistake.” 

I’d like to inform everyone that **sweet rice flour is also glutinous rice flour!** Sorry if it caused any confusion! ≦(._.)≧ That’s why today, I’ve decided to share an OG ~classique~ that uses rice flour, so you can get acquainted to sweet rice flour’s less sticky cousin!   
  
**Steamed Rice Cake! 白糖糕 Bai Tang Gao**  
[thnx 4 yrs of mandarin classes]  
  
Ingredients:  
🗷 250g rice flour  
🗷 150g granulated white sugar  
\---you’d want this white fam, else the cake will stain(?)  
🗷 1 envelope of instant yeast  
🗷 and water ㅎㅎ  
  
...See more

It was the perfect excuse to leave the rest of his worksheets for another day, and Mark couldn’t contain his excitement as he drove out from the university parking lot. 

He catches Nakamoto’s right before they begin closing for the night. The shop is empty, save for Yuta munching on a plate of what looks like bread. Mark gives him a head nod as he walks in, before quickly disappearing to the flour aisle. There he spots a familiar bag of rice flour on the bottom shelf and takes one without much fanfare. 

It’s nice to know that he’s not the only one in the world confused about the intricacies of baking ingredients. Judging by Haechan’s anecdotes on the post, it seems like the rice flour conundrum was a universal problem after all. 

But with that said, Mark didn’t miss the casual compliment Haechan has thrown in for the stranger. He feels a part of himself deflate all of a sudden for absolutely no reason. At the very least, it tells him that Haechan was at least interested in guys, which is a good thing! But the real question was whether Haechan would be interested in _him_ , to which he has no answers unless they happen to bump into each other in the middle of a small town Asian grocery. 

To prevent himself from further spiralling into a black hole of Thursdays blues, he swipes a couple boxes of strawberry flavored Pocky from the candy aisle. But apparently having cream covered biscuit sticks in your shopping cart doesn’t do as much as having them in your mouth, because Yuta takes one look at him and _knows_. 

“Bad day?” Yuta asks, brows furrowed as he watched Mark dump his purchases on the conveyor belt. 

“Eh,” Mark says, not really up to explaining why he’s all mopey about a dude on the internet. He goes for a non-commital shrug instead. “Could be better. You?” 

Yuta stares at him for a hot second as if to press, but he just blows a puff of air up his bangs. 

“Eh too, I guess. Just waiting to close.” Yuta says, carefully inspecting the bag of rice flour for any punctures before punching it into the system. “What’s this for?”

Mark would try to pronounce the Chinese word, but he doesn’t have to say it to know he’d butcher it. Somehow its immediate English translation escapes him in the odd case of the brain fart, and his hands end up making weird motions that vaguely resemble cake. 

“Uh, it’s a sugar cake?” The way Yuta stares at him blankly tells Mark he’s not making a lot of sense. Cake has sugar, yes. That’s a fact of life. Sugar free cake should not exist and anyone who tries to feed him some must be subject to divine retribution. “Like, it’s a cake made with rice flour. And you just add sugar and yeast. It’s like a bun, but _rice_?” 

“You mean this?” Yuta eyes the plate of bread he was snacking on just now. It’s a white spongy thing cut into bite-sized triangular bits, and now that Mark is up close, he finally notices the telltale gleam that tells him it’s definitely not made with regular flour.

Before Mark could get a word in, Yuta was already picking up a piece and shoving it in Mark’s mouth. Yuta’s fingers knock into his unassuming teeth and Mark would genuinely worry about sanitation protocols if only the cake did not taste so good. It couldn’t have been just rice flour and sugar and yeast, how dare these little triangles taste like lazy middle school afternoon dismissals? 

“Oh man,” Mark says with a mouthful of cake. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until now. “Shit’s good!” 

“Right?” Yuta says, plopping another one into his mouth. “A customer came by earlier to drop these off. Good kid.” 

Mark was going to tell him that it’s nice he gets gifts from regulars, but right at that moment, Mrs. Nakamoto comes out of the backroom with a ladle in hand, face veiled with caution before she spots Mark. And then there was a lot of shrieking. 

“Mark Lee!” Her face brightens up as she makes her way to the counter, house slippers shuffling on the grocery tiles in haste. “You’ve grown so big!” 

Mark finds himself uncharacteristically giggling, melting at the onslaught of motherly affection. He hasn’t seen her in ages since Yuta took over the shop after he graduated and she finally took a backseat into retirement. Her hair has begun to gray around the center, but her grip on Mark’s arm tells him she’s healthy and well. 

“Hi auntie,” Mark says, not knowing how to bow down in respect when she has him locked into place. He settles for an odd swerve of the head instead but she’s too busy studying his face, no doubt privy to his alarming lack of a skin care routine. 

“Mark, you need to stay for dinner,” she says, patting his arm affectionately. There is a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she leans in, like she knows he won’t be able to say no. “It’s sukiyaki tonight.” 

At the mention of real food, Yuta is quick to scramble at the screen to shut the computer down. Mark barely registers the fact that he hasn’t even paid for his shopping yet over the sweet smell of broth permeating from the connecting house. 

“You guys should lock up quick, I’ll set the table,” she says, squeezing his arm one last time before letting go. She’s heading back into the house when she stops in her tracks, like she had remembered something. “Yuta?” 

Yuta’s hums as his head peeks from where he was shutting the AVR under the counter. 

“That’s coming out of your paycheck,” she says, eyeing the unpaid stack of Pocky before finally turning around. Mark rips a stitch laughing and Yuta can only let out a long-suffering groan. 

* * *

It was when dinner was dwindling down and Mark was on his last bowl of soup that Yuta’s mom dropped the question. 

“So, Mark. When are you getting married?” she asks, voice light and casual as she refills the teapot with freshly boiled water. 

“Sorry?” Mark lets out an awkward laugh as he brings his bowl down, not really trusting himself to hold stoneware at the moment. His eyes flit to Yuta for help, but the blond was too busy trying to pick out mushrooms from the bottom of the cast-iron pot. 

“How old are you now, twenty-one?” she asks, eyes looking up to him momentarily before settling the thermos down. “Old enough to be arrested, old enough to have children.” 

Mark’s pretty sure that logic was fundamentally twisted somewhere, but somehow he’s not surprised. His mom hasn’t exactly been subtle about wanting Mark to finally bring someone home, and he wouldn’t be shocked if she’s taken to calling the Nakamoto household to rant about it while he’s in university. 

“I’m, uh, not really thinking about that yet. I’m just focusing on the degree right now,” he says with a strained smile, knowing full well he had a bunch of unanswered problem sets sitting on the passenger seat of his car as he speaks. Yuta snorts behind his bowl, and Mark kicks him under the table. 

“And when you get that degree, then what? You’ll be stuck in an office with no way to meet other people. You should make the most out of this time, Mark! You’re not going to be young forever. Are you at least seeing anyone?” 

“Not..really?” Mark says, though at the back of his mind he sure wishes he was. He thinks of lips glossed with honey glaze, tousled brown hair, long lashes fanning out onto double eyelids, a winged stare so powerful that a shiver runs down his spine.

“And why not?” she asks, her shrill voice snapping Mark out of his stupor. She looks at him like she can’t believe Mark could ever be single. “You’re so handsome, you just need to moisturize!” 

At that, Yuta could no longer hide his laughter and began cackling across the table into next Friday. “This guy has absolutely zero game, _ma_. I think he’ll be needing more than just moisturizer,” he says. 

She spares her son a glance before returning her attention back to Mark, eyes big with worry. “Is that true? Yuta has a lot of friends your age. Do you want him to set you up on a date?”

Mark wants to thank her for the concern and reassure her that he can handle his own romances perfectly fine, but before he could get a word in, an entire conversation is already happening before him in a code-switch that he can’t grasp. He catches bits of English here and there, but most of it goes over his head.

“No, _no_. Not her, please. It doesn’t look it, but Mark has _some_ standards.”

“What about that nice boy who sends us food all the time, then? Doesn’t he study in Mark’s school?” 

“Donghyuck. That’s...” Yuta’s eyes widened in a flash of realization, “Not a bad idea at all.” 

“Uh, what’s not a bad idea?” Mark asks, eyes mirroring Yuta’s but less in mirth and more in an awkward panic that he might be getting roped into something he’s tried so hard to avoid all these years. 

“It’s perfect! Donghyuck loves baking, and he’s _very_ cute. I’m sure you guys will get along.” Yuta says, fishing his phone out of the pocket of his work pants. “I can text him right now!” 

“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Mark laughs awkwardly, while he nudges Yuta with his socked foot under the table to get him to _quit it_. 

“Nonsense, Mark!” Mrs. Nakamoto says, indignant. “Do you know how upset Ryujin-chan has been? You can’t worry your mother sick like that.” 

Mrs. Nakamoto’s eyes soften and she looks at him affectionately like he’s ten, and in the background he barely registers Yuta holler in excitement as he begins typing out a message. Over a bowl of rapidly cooling soup, Mark realizes he might have just sold his soul away for sukiyaki on a Thursday night.

* * *

Thirty minutes before his scheduled date, Mark arrives at the swanky bar slash restaurant Yuta picked out of them smack in the middle of the city's lifestyle district. The place was known for its mood lights and trendy cocktails, and it wasn’t going to be long before the place would start to fill with professionals wanting to unwind as the rush hour kicks in.

Mark is glad he decided to forgo changing out of his school clothes, heading straight from his last class to the carpark to avoid the heavy traffic. 

When he’s seated, Mark takes out his phone to be greeted by a barrage of texts from Yuta, who might honestly be more nervous about this than he was. 

**Yuta** : mark  
**Yuta** : r u on the way???  
**Yuta** : u better not be trying to fake your own death rn 

Mark ends up snorting inappropriately just as a server starts pouring him some water, and he mutters a small thanks before he’s typing out his reply. 

**Mark** : aw man was that today?? Have an exam at six   
**Mark** : jk   
**Mark** : already here lmao  
**Yuta** : fUCK YOU LEE I ALMOST DROPPED MY PHONE  
**Yuta** : i’m going to kill you  
**Yuta** : is2g if you bail on this i’m never stocking gochugaru again  
**Mark** : You wouldn’t.  
**Yuta** : 🔪 try me bitch 

It’s actually pretty endearing how badly Yuta wanted to make this work, insisting to make all the arrangements for them even when Mark offered to take it off his hands. 

The conversation over dinner was an eye opener for the Yuta, who immediately started spam texting Mark about how he and Donghyuck were the perfect match the moment he left the house. He spent the rest of the night sending Mark potential date spots, and by the end of the week, Yuta had already set up two Pinterest boards and a Spotify playlist for their future, highly hypothetical wedding. 

Mark takes a sip of his water, eyes impulsively flitting to the door as a young couple walks in. One of the servers leads them to an empty two-seater by the window, and Mark comes to the realization that he doesn’t have a lick of an idea who he’s expecting to walk into that door. 

For all the fuss that Yuta has made about this Donghyuck person, he surprisingly didn’t tell Mark much else aside from the fact that he’s a sophomore Music Composition major and that he’s Korean. How he managed to be both was beyond Mark’s filial comprehension, definitely raising some questions in his head about how that was possible. 

But that was about as far as Mark’s interest went, and he honestly doesn’t give enough shits to be bothered to ask more details. Mark’s sure this person is nice, Yuta wouldn’t have vouched for him so hard if he weren’t, but nothing will change the fact that Mark would much rather spend his Thursday evening turning his dorm room into a furnace than talk about the history of music. 

Given that, he owes it enough to Yuta to show up, be a gentleman, and make sure his date has a good time before they go their separate ways and never have to meet again. Surely Donghyuck was roped into this arrangement just as much as he was, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like trash just because Mark couldn’t handle a small favor. 

The door swings open again, and Mark whips his head thinking that he should have maybe at least asked Yuta for a photo so he knew what to look for. But the thought gets pushed to the back of his mind when his gaze lands on a familiar face with, quite arguably, the prettiest smile Mark has ever seen in his life. 

_What the fuck is Haechan Lee doing here?_

Okay, fine. It’s a free country. Haechan is allowed to go wherever he wants, but up until five seconds ago Mark didn’t even _know_ Haechan truly existed (because, uhm, how even?) and he can’t help the slight panic that seizes him as Haechan starts to walk in his general direction. 

_It’s fine_ , he thinks. _Deep breaths, don’t die._

Mark fiddles with his phone instead, desperately trying to keep his head down for fear that he’d stare too much and get kicked out for inappropriate behavior. There’s only ten minutes to go until his date is due to arrive and if he ends up on the curb before then, he has no doubts Yuta would _actually_ murder him in cold blood. 

Even with his eyes trained on his screen, Mark’s ears can clearly make out the clacking of heeled boots on the hardwood floor. It’s getting louder by the second, taunting Mark to steal a glance. 

Instead, he takes a deep breath to steele himself, but the rest of it gets stuck on the exhale when the footsteps stop right next to him, and suddenly he’s forgotten how to breathe. 

“Mark, right?” Haechan asks, smiling down at him like blessed rains in Africa. “Hi, I’m Donghyuck. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

Mark just stares at him like he grew another head, which he might as well have, because did he just say his name was Donghyuck? And wow he's _so_ fucking pretty up close. 

“Uh,” was Mark’s intelligent response, scrambling back into date protocol mode before finding his words. “Yeah, yeah that’s me. Please,” he gestures to the seat in front of him, “Have a seat.” 

Haechan slips into the cushioned seat across him with a shy smile, eyes crinkling in a way that oddly enough reminds Mark of supermarket run-ins. He’s decked out in this orange and purple splattered polo, with chains around his neck and sparkly tinsel in his hair. Haechan looks like he just came out of a photoshoot, and God, Mark is _looking_. 

It’s the sound of raucous laughter from two tables over that shakes Mark out of his reverie, and he realizes it’s a little rude but Mark has some questions he seriously needs answered right now. 

“Okay uh, I’m just gonna go out on a limb here but like,” Mark stops, realizing how stupid it sounds. “Do you have a twin?” 

Mark doesn’t know what response he was expecting to hear, but it was definitely not this. He watches with wide eyes as Haechan’s eyes disappear into little crescents, trying to suppress a laughter behind his hands. 

“No,” he says, lips permanently stretched out in a smile. “Only child here, but I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and guess you know me as Haechan?” 

Mark blinks, taking in the words. Okay that’s good, he thinks, taking a sip of his water. This means that his brain’s facial recognition isn’t royally fucked up and he’s not going crazy superimposing Haechan’s face on unsuspecting people. That’s good. 

But also, that means that this person in front of him, is Haechan. 

The person Yuta said was the perfect match for him, was Haechan. 

And he is on a date. With Haechan. 

Realization hits Mark and he’s coughing, eyes wild as he tries not to choke to death in the middle of an upscale bistro. Across him Haechan’s momentary shock dissipates into loud unabashed laughter, getting up from his seat to rub soothing circles on Mark’s back. 

“Oh my God, fuck— I’m so sorry, dude. That’s so…” Mark tries, face is burning up in embarrassment. A server came by to give them more napkins, and Haechan took the liberty of pressing them onto his damp shirt. Mark wasn’t a fool, he was the whole damn circus. 

“Mark you’re okay!” he says, laughing as he continues to rub Mark’s back. The strands of tinsel in his hair are twinkling under the lights and Mark really doesn’t understand how he hasn’t run off yet. “It’s chill.”

“It really isn’t,” Mark says, sullenly. “God, this is so embarrassing. This is like, worse than when my friends found out I had a binsta.”

“Okay, I have to be honest. Binstas are a little 2017 but I don’t see why they’d shame you for it,” Haechan says, slipping back into his seat. “Unless they’re not there.”

“It’s not…” Mark winces. “It’s a baking insta. I’m kind of a fan. Is that weird? Oh my God, okay this is worse. Why did I say that—” 

Mark finds that when he’s flustered, he rambles. A lot. He doesn’t know how it took him 21 years to discover this, but then again, it’s his first time being on a date with Haechan Lee. Probably the last time too, considering how terrific the date is going. Dang. 

“You have a baking insta?” Haechan asks, eyes twinkling with interest. “Can I see?” 

Mark doesn’t get to reply because a server with an RBF comes by to ask them if they’re “finally” ready to order, and they both realize at the same time that they haven’t even touched their menus once this entire time.

Haechan gingerly asks if she could give them a few more minutes to decide, and when she walks away with a huff, Haechan and Mark stare at each other for a hot second before they both burst out in inexplicable laughter. 

The bitchy server must have been a gift from the gods, because the date goes much smoother after that. They order a margherita pizza to share and an extra plate of arrabbiata upon Haechan’s insistence, saying it was “the most bomb ass shit ever.” And honestly, Mark would have probably agreed if only his tongue didn’t threaten to fall off from the heat two bites in. 

Haechan ends up offering to finish the rest of the pasta, but not before laughing his ass off about Mark's noob level spice tolerance for two minutes straight. He gives Mark the rest of the pizza as a gesture of goodwill, and Mark thinks that even if his tongue disintegrated he would have been perfectly fine if it meant he’d see Haechan laugh more often. 

Once they talk it out and Mark finally got over the embarrassment of a) generally fanboying over Haechan’s ...everything, really, b) not knowing his flours enough to warrant his own SAT post, and c) leaving Haechan on metaphorical read last week when he was obviously flirting with him, Mark actually ends up showing Haechan his binsta, and surprisingly, Haechan loves it.

He tells Mark in earnest to set it on public because — “It’s too good to be kept a secret, Mark! Look at how cleanly that brownie pulls away from the pan! God, I wish my oven could do that but it's this old busted thing and it burns the edges like a witch on trial.” To which, Mark responds with an invite to come over his place next time, "You know, to bake," earning him a raised brow but a shy smile. _I'll take it._

They talk about everything; they talk about how old Haechan was when he left Korea and how difficult it was for him to learn a new language, they talk about Mark's favorite Korean restaurants and where to find the crispiest _tangsuyuk;_ they talk about their parents, all they had to give up to give their children a better life. 

In between these stories, Mark comes to find that Haechan is absolutely nothing like he originally expected. Sure, he's still hot as shit, but he's so much more than that. He's so much more than just his cute selfies and flattering angles, more than just his endearing emojis and online recipes. Haechan is _real_ , and he's not just a profile on the other side of Mark's screen. In fact he's right here, and Mark comes to the most fascinating realization that he wants to know more. 

A while later, after the plates have been cleared out and they're talking about shitty professors, Mark suddenly remembers a question.

“—and I was like, ‘Sir, with all due respect, all music is just a remix of the chromatic scale,’ and then he actually had the nerve to kick me out of the room for being a heretic.”

“Oh man, for real?”

“I’m pretty sure he would have failed me, but then I’d have to take him again next semester and he did _not_ want that, and that’s the story of how I got a C in Chromatic Harmony.”

“Huh,” Mark says, cocking his head to the side. “You know I’ve always wondered how you convinced your parents to let you take Music Composition. Yuta told me about it and I just...thought it was really cool.” 

The smile on Haechan’s face falters for just a second, but Mark is quick to catch it. 

“Uhm, that’s the thing,” Haechan says, not meeting Mark’s eye. “I didn’t.”

“You.. didn’t?” Mark echoes, not understanding. 

“I didn’t convince them. They don’t know.” 

A thick silence envelopes them, loaded with words unsaid. On Haechan's face is a look of deep guilt and remorse that makes Mark regret ever opening his mouth. He wishes, more than anything, to pluck the words from where they hang in the air and bury them deep in the earth so that Haechan would no longer have to look at them, but he knows that he can't.

He is powerless in the face of someone else's demons, and these battles are no one but Haechan's to fight. But it doesn't mean that he can't stand next to him as he does. 

Mark reaches a hand across the table, wrapping it around Haechan’s cold fingers. It makes the younger look up at him with his big glossy eyes, and Mark is struck by the overwhelming urge to hold onto him forever and never let go. There's something blooming in his gut that he can't put a finger on, but God, Mark would absolutely hate to see it die.

“Okay then,” Mark says resolutely. “They don’t have to know.” 

For a second Haechan just blinks, face blank and unreadable. But at the next moment, he’s taking Mark’s hand in his, and squeezing it tightly as if to say a quiet thank you. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he calls for the check, and his hand never leaves Mark’s until it’s time to pay. 

Later, when the bill’s all settled and they’ve made their way out of the restaurant, Mark finds himself racking his brain for excuses not to go home. He had fun tonight, way more than he could have ever imagined on a date, and Mark simply does not want this night to end.

“Hae—” Mark stops himself, and then tries again. “Donghyuck.” 

The boy next to him only tilts his head in response, but there’s surprise in his features.

"Do you have any plans for the rest of the night?" 

"We've been together for three hours," Donghyuck bites his lips as he suppresses a smile. "Aren't you tired of me yet?"

"Hmm," Mark says, stepping closer. "Would it be too desperate if I said no? 'Cause no. I'm really not."

Donghyuck does not respond, but warm hands find their way around Mark’s own, fingers clasping together, holding on tightly.

“Okay then, lover boy,” he says softly. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

**Yuta** : mark  
**Yuta** : hey  
**Yuta** : how did it go???  
**Yuta** : ????  
**Yuta** : MARK DON’T IGNORE ME I KNOW YOU CAN SEE THIS

 **Mark:** what do u think of a summer wedding? 

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this was fun for like, two seconds, and then i upset myself thinking of everything donghyuck could not tell his parents hhhhhhhhh
> 
> also yes, they are in vancouver jus bc that's where mark would be lmao
> 
> i want a chance to rewrite this story someday, bc there are so many unanswered questions in here man like ??????? but here it is for now. so please let me know what you think!
> 
> also: [here's](https://twitter.com/whitenoisce/status/1289924888115834886) the irl backstory to that osaka trip lmao
> 
> also feel free to come talk to me on twitter: [@whitenoisce](https://twitter.com/whitenoisce) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/whitenoisce)!


End file.
